Page 61 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

My wound is itching like crazy. Probably from those—don’t think about it, Sadie. It’s sick in a very diabolical way—nanites as they heal my leg.

But eventually I let that go too. I give in. Give up. Same thing.

I rest my head against Sullivan’s shoulder and let myself relax.

Sadie, Sadie, Sadie.

He is tall, muscular, and intimidating. His arms are crossed across his bare chest. They are huge. Bulging to the point of being grotesque. Like cannons. His body is covered in tattoos. Birds, I realize. Indigo blue ravens and midnight black jays. Raptors and songbirds too. But when I sweep my eyes up to his face, his frown is all I see.

He turns his back to me and walks to a doorway, his body forming a black silhouette against the bright light streaming through the opening, then disappears into it, taking the light with him.

Sadie, Sadie, Sadie.

“Sadie.”

I try to open my eyes, but they are still heavy with sleep and in my dream, I’m calling for the big man to come back.

“Sadie!” The urgent whisper comes with a shake this time.

“What?” I manage through dry, thirsty lips.

“Do you hear that?”

I open my eyes and find… “Thomas?” I ask the voice.

“No,” Sullivan says. “You’re still stuck with me. But listen. Am I hearing things? Can you hear that?”

“No,” I say.

“Listen carefully,” he urges. “Can you hear that?”

I strain my ears, searching for the sound that has him on alert. I’m just about to say no again when he says, “There. That. The little tinny whining of…”

“A drill,” I say. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

He just breathes for a few seconds. Then, “Yeah. A drill. You’re right. They’re drilling the iris gate. Probably from the center point where it spirals closed. That’s the weakest point.”

A faint pop sound makes both of us hiss in a breath.

“What was that?” I whisper into the darkness.

Sullivan is silent for a few moments. Pop, pop, pop, three more times.

“Explosives,” he whispers back. “They’re trying to break the seal first with small explosions. But once they have a foothold, they will use bigger charges to make an actual opening.”

“Do you think it’s them?” I ask. “Prodigy?”

I feel him nod next to me.

“It could be your friends,” I say. “I got a message last night—or…” I pause. Because I have no idea what time of day it is, and this bothers me. “Before I fell asleep. Maybe it was just a dream, but they said they were friends. They were coming to get me.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Sullivan says. “So no, I don’t think they’re friends.”

“But Thomas’s friends. I think it’s Thomas’s friends.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. Holding still as several more faint explosions sound off on the other side of the gate. “We should try at least.”

“Try what?”